


A Midsummer's Night Hotel

by applejackcat



Series: The Hotel Anielle [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Plunkett and Macleane (1999), The Legend of Barney Thomson (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4453520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejackcat/pseuds/applejackcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a totally believable set of circumstances, a group of doppelgängers are brought to the Hotel Anielle and told they can not leave until they bang. A good time is had by all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer's Night Hotel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatRavenclawBitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/gifts).



> Written for ThatRavenclawBitch for Rumbelle Christmas in July. Her prompt was: Bondage, hotel room, vacation, strangers.

Let it be known: Puck never would have spiked the ambrosia with pixie dust if he had been aware of Oberon’s propensity for penile puppetry or Titania’s predilection for the art of miming. Long story short, the king and queen of the faeries had humiliated themselves in front of their court. For his role in the debacle, Puck had been banished from all of fae society.

Two weeks into his exile, he felt ready to tear himself in two from frustration.

He had not realized until he lost Oberon, Titania, and the faery court how much he relied upon them as an audience. Without their laughter and merriment at the follies of mortals, his trickery lost its charm. Puck had always viewed himself as a hilarious prankster, the crown prince of mischief; but after his latest string of failures (causing a barber to slip at an inopportune moment, mesmerizing a priest so that he drank a particular cup of coffee, switching the cell phones of a deadly assassin and a young punk) he suspected that he was, in fact, a gaping asshole.

Self-awareness did not suit Puck in the slightest, and he became desperate to gain Oberon’s and Titania’s pardon. No one knew better than him of their vanity and changeable moods, so he reasoned that if he presented them with a decent enough gift, they would welcome him back with open arms. With Midsummer just around the corner, Puck had the perfect opportunity to mount his comeback – provided he stumbled across the right set of circumstances, a group of mortals filled with lust and eager to slake it in one another’s arms. Oberon and his queen loved nothing more than magnificent displays of sexual ingenuity, and if Puck could instigate a hum-dinger of an orgy, his place in the fae court would be all but guaranteed.

Fortunately for Puck, while revisiting the barber, he noticed something exceedingly peculiar: though their hairstyles and ages differed, he and the priest were identical. Both existed in different universes, but it was not uncommon for the same mortal to appear in numerous different worlds – but these men were not different versions of one another. They had their own names, their own personalities, and their own manner of being (and Puck did not use the word lightly) adorably helpless.

Intrigued, Puck began scouring the cosmos for similar beings and discovered sparkly sorcerers, foul-mouthed money lenders, ruthless pawnbrokers, dashing highwaymen, temperamental scientists, amateur strippers, big-hearted bus drivers, psychopathic robbers, stoic assassins, and a few blokes that made him deeply uncomfortable. It did not take long for him to find another anomaly: with very few exceptions, each of these men existed in close proximity to their True Loves, who were, in fact, different versions of the same basic person.

If Puck thought about the situation too much, he head began to ache, so he focused instead on creating the ideal spot where several of the couples could come together, realize their undying love for one another, and engage in passionate bouts of love making. His casual observation of mortals had taught him how much they loved orgasms and luxury vacations, so a sumptuous hotel seemed like the perfect setting for his fuck fest. Puck knew the mortals would experience momentary panic when he plucked them from their individual time lines and brought them to his pleasure palace, but he figured that once they realized they were with their true loves, their alarm would turn instantaneously into unbridled horniness.

He could not have been more wrong.

* * *

The highwayman would not holster his pistol, which meant that the street ruffian would not tuck his blade back into his boot. The barber became so overwhelmed that he ran into one of the clear glass doors (which, at the time, Puck had deemed the pinnacle of class) and knocked himself unconscious. And the money lender had alienated everyone by declaring that he was the smartest, thinnest, and handsomest of his ilk. The woman, for their part, had become far more fascinated by each other and the implication of different universes. They had flocked together to compare their timeline’s histories and showed little interest in jumping their True Loves bones.

Puck had an unmitigated disaster on his hands, and to make matters even worse, no one would listen to him.

“You cannot return home until you consummate your love!” he roared, stomping his feet. “Stop arguing and get to fucking!”

“How vulgar,” snarked one of the women.

“To be honest,” said another, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the unconscious one in the biblical sense – once he wakes up.”

Someone sighed. “The one with dreadlocks – I’d just love to fix him a warm meal. He looks like he could use a hug.”

“How extraordinary, that women will one day have command over their own sexual identities!”

Puck lost the women’s attention again as they delved into a rousing conversation of the politics and morality of sexuality in their individual worlds. The men would not stop shouting at one another, and if Oberon and Titania arrived as planned, they would probably send him to Tartarus for wasting their time. Having decided it would be in his best interested to put as much distance as possible between him and the ruinous Hotel Anielle, he burst from the room and flew off into the Midsummer night.

One of the women grinned at his retreating form. “What an odd little man.”

“Well, he’s not a man at all, if he is who he said he was.”

“You know, the rub of it is that I would like to go home at some point.”

“Oh, me too! I wish I’d been given a chance to pack. I’m right in the middle of A Dream of Spring –”

“Shut the front door! Martin’s finished the series in your universe?”

“Oh, they were all finished ages ago. I’m only just reading them now.”

“In my universe, we’re still waiting for A Feast For Crows.”

“Then you don’t know that Jon Snow -”

“Excuse me! Spoiler alert!”

“Who’s Jon Snow? Is he a politician? What’s a spoiler alert?”

“What the fuck?” cried one of the women, leaping to her feet and pointing at the money lender. “Danny Devine? Is that you?”

Danny Devine shrank backwards and stumbled over the unconscious barber. “Ah, hello. I, uh, didn’t expect to run into you here.”

The woman, dressed to the nines in designer duds and scandalously high stilettos, stalked over to his prone form, her eyes smoldering furiously. “I’m assuming you came here to hide from me. And since you feel the need to hide from me, I also assume that you don’t have my money.”

Danny gulped and struggled to his feet. The barber had begun to regain consciousness but remained on the floor in a puddle of middle-aged mediocrity. “About that. I wanted to know if it’d be possible to get a small reprieve on my loan. Business has been slow, and – ack!”

Uninterested in Danny’s weak excuses, the woman had grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room. Everyone else had been struck momentarily silent, and they listened as her stilettos clacked on the hotel’s marble floors.

Another of the women, this one clad in a yellow silk gown with billowing skirts, turned to her friend. “What is she doing?”

“What does it look like?” her companion asked with a grin. “She’s going home.”

* * *

_The Presidential Suite: Danny Devine and the Loan Shark_

Danny knelt on the floor of his hotel room, his hands trussed behind his back, struggling to remain upright despite the precarious spread of his knees. He kept his eyes downcast, to show his willing submission, but he could hear the loan shark circling him slowly.

“If I knew you wanted to waste my money, Devine,” the woman spat scornfully, “I could have helped you come up with better ideas than a room at the Hotel Anielle.”

Danny gulped. “I like the fine stuff, yeah?”

The loan shark snorted. “What, like your ridiculous suits? That’s what you should have spent my money on, Devine. Some clothing that fit you properly. Do you think people want to see the outline of your cock?”

She must have seen something in Danny’s expression, because she laughed, low and throatily. “That’s it. You like to put yourself on display. You want the people you pass on the street to see your penis. Bloody hell. I bet you get so fucking hard when a pretty woman notices your prick. You’re disgusting.”

Danny nodded in agreement. “I’m a fucking waste of space, a pathetic little runt. I’m fucking ashamed of myself.”

The loan shark chuckled, but Danny did not make the mistake of thinking the mirth he heard meant he was forgiven. “No, I don’t believe that. You still look far too eager for a man in your position. But I promise, Devine, that when I’m through with you, you’ll have learned a thing or two about feeling shame.”

He quaked at her promise, and his cock began to throb in the confines of his exceedingly snug pants. Danny whimpers, half because he cannot fucking help himself, half because he knows it will enrage the loan shark.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, Devine?” she demanded, confirming for Danny that outrage sounded most sensual when pouring from the lips of a small Australian woman. “You know the rules.”

“No exceptions,” Danny parroted. “No fucking reprieves.”

The loan sharked tapped the tip of one of her obscene stilettos in the marble floor, signaling Danny to look up. When he met her icy blue gaze, another whimper escaped him, this time because of her radiant beauty. “I guess that means that for the foreseeable future, your tight little arse belongs to me.”

Without warning, the loan shark’s coolness melted from her face, leaving in its stead an anxious expression. “I’m so sorry, Danny, but you know I’d never own you, right? It just seemed the right thing to say…” Belle trailed off worriedly.

Danny winked at her. “Understood. You’re doing fucking fantastic.”

Belle beamed at him, and like a curtain falling, her countenance turned menacing again.

“You own a strip club, correct?”

“Yeah, the Parrot Club.”

The loan shark smirked. “When I stopped by earlier, none of the women were on the stage.”

“They don’t start dancing until the afternoon.”

The loan shark reached out and ran one manicured finger from the hollow at the base of his neck up to his chin. Danny’s pulse beat frantically at her touch, and he shifted so that the seam of his pants brushed against the head of his cock. A wet spot appeared on the front of his trousers, evidence of his unshakable arousal, and he knew the loan shark’s sharp eyes spotted it.

“Well, well. It seems we might be on the same page.”

She bent down to untie his wrists, allowing her thick, fragrant hair to cascade over Danny’s face. He imagined how her curls would feel brushing against his chest as she rode him, taking from his scrawny little body every bit of pleasure she could. If he could only be good for one thing in this world, let it be bringing this woman to rapture.

“Stand,” the loan shark commanded, and Danny struggled to his feet, his legs wobbly after crouching for a prolonged time. She went to the king sized bed and sat on the edge, crossing one mile-long leg over the other. She reached for the sleek radio clock on the bedside table, and her finger hovered over the ‘on’ button. “Strip.”

_“MY HUMPS! MY HUMPS! MY LOVELY LADY LUMPS!”_

“Oh, crumbs, how do you work this thing?”

Belle scrambled frantically for both the volume and the tuner. When she could find neither, she hit the ‘off’ button, and they lapsed into an awkward silence. Danny saw her slim shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter at her mistake, and his heart (and, yeah, his cock too) ached for this breathtaking woman. He cracked a grin as well, and as soon as Belle saw it, her persona snapped back to that of the ruthless loan shark.

“I believe I told you to dance, Devine. Did you misunderstand me, or have you thought of a way to give me my money right now?”

Back in the game. Danny couldn’t dance to save his life. Thankfully, though the loan shark gazed at him with studied indifference, she could not hide the hitch in her breath when he hands went to the top button of his red jacket. He swayed his hips to and fro, in time to fuck knows what rhythm, and saw the loan shark’s thighs squeeze and rub together.

Standing as he was, the loan shark could not miss the way Danny’s erection strained against his pants. It felt so fucking wonderful to twist this way and that, dragging the fabric of his trousers against his sensitive flesh. His legs trembled with the anticipation of baring himself for this woman.

Danny shrugged out of his jacket and, mimicking a move he had seen many a dancer execute, he swung it around his head. His cell phone, his house keys, and twenty-three pence went sailing through the air.

The loan shark didn’t bat an eye. “I would forgo the pageantry, Devine. Although I’ll count that change towards your debt to me.”

Next, Danny unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his pale, concave chest. He expected the loan shark to insult his runty physique, but instead, she gazed at him with obvious interest. She drew the tip of her tongue across her bottom lip, rose pink across crimson, and Danny shook with the desire to feel that tongue lapping at his balls. He struggled with his cuffs, eager to be naked and for the stage to begin.

The loan shark must have been impatient, too, for when his hands went to his belt, she stood and slunk towards him, her hips swinging back and forth to the same silent beat as his. Her touch made his skin feel too tight, set his heart racing at an impossible rate; when she slid her hands from his shoulders down his torso to his waist, Danny thought he might actually fucking swoon.

“You’re a mess, Devine,” the loan shark growled, lest he mistake her attention for a reprieve.

Danny grunted in agreement. “I’m nothing but a fucking waster. I don’t deserve to lick the bottoms of your shoes,” he muttered shamefully.

The loan shark undid his belt and unbuttoned his trousers. She jerked his trousers and his drawers down at the same time, kneeling to do so, placing herself at a lower vantage point than Danny for the first time since entering the hotel room. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady himself as he stepped out of his trousers, his cock bobbing excitedly under her scrutiny.

With her nose centimeters away from his shaft, her warm breath puffing against his overheated flesh, she began at the place where his shaft met his balls. Danny had become so aroused that the tip of his penis nearly pointed at the ceiling, and as she traveled upwards, the loan shark allowed the tip of her tongue to wiggle out from between her cherry red lips. She teased him but letting it come so close to his shaft that he could just imagine the sweet roughness of it against his hard length.

Danny keened, a high, pleading sound that did not sway the loan shark in his favor. “If you had given me my money, Devine, I swear I would have sucked you dry. I would have crawled to you on my hands and knees and taken you in my mouth and pleasured you until your eyes rolled back in your head. I would have swallowed your cum and moaned to you about how wonderful it tasted, and when you kissed me, you would know I wasn’t lying.”

She took Danny’s cock in her hand and squeezed him forcefully. The unexpected touch after so much anticipation and desire caused Danny’s knees to buckle, and if the loan shark had not grabbed his balls at just the right moment and tugged them down, he would have exploded in her face. As it was, he could not keep from pitching forward at the pleasure her rough handling brought him.

“Fuck, Belle, you’ll be the fucking death of me,” he groaned, and it was her turn to wink at him.

The loan shark would not allow his insubordination to stand, though, so she slapped his cock away from her. His erection jerked happily at her touch, and Danny awaited her next instruction.

“You didn’t have my money, though, so we’re not going to do that.” She stood regally and returned to the bed. To Danny’s delight, she reached under her designer skirt and wriggled out of her silky panties. She tossed the flimsy scrap of fabric behind her – Danny noted where it landed, so he could collect it later as a keepsake of their tryst – and lay back. “Earlier you said you’re not worthy to lick the bottoms of my shoes. I’d much rather you use your filthy mouth on my clit.”

Danny practically dove between her spread thighs. He longed to hitch her long, sinuous legs over his shoulders so he could bury his face in her pussy, but he didn’t know if the loan shark would allow him to take such liberties. He couldn’t be bothered to spare his mouth for speaking at the moment, so he refrained. He nuzzled the soft mound of curls (a few shades darker than the hair on her head) and let her feel his breath against her lips. When the loan shark grabbed his hair and bucked against him, he got the message and set about eating her out properly.

He parted her lips with his tongue, moaning at his first taste of her sweet juices. The loan shark moaned and writhed, and Danny could not help but take a moment to admire her pretty pink pussy. He rubbed his nose against her clit, which had grown swollen and peaked out from its hood.

“Oh, fuck, yes!” the loan shark moaned, arching her back and rubbing her breasts.

Danny wrapped his lips around the stiff, sensitive nub and began to suckle gently. The loan shark wailed happily. Danny thrilled at her response and let his teeth graze her clit, just the way he knew she would like. The loan shark practically convulsed, and Danny was forced to throw caution to the wind. He slid his arms under her thighs, threw her legs over his shoulders, and sought to give her as much pleasure as was possible. Her alternating suckling her clit with lashing its sensitive tip with his tongue.

The more the loan shark bucked and flailed, the faster and more deftly he worked. When she began to kick and pound at the bed, Danny knew she would climax soon and that it would be in his best interests to add his fingers to the mix. He pulled his arm out from under her thigh and slid two fingers into the loan shark’s deliciously tight pussy, crooking them so that they pressed against an electric shock.

(Later, when the loan shark had transformed back into his darling girlfriend Belle, she would confide that that was the moment she saw stars and thought she might lose consciousness.)

The loan shark orgasmed with what seemed like violent intensity, her body drawing up as tight as a bowstring, crying out until her voice sounded raw. She clawed at the bed and at his hair and Danny welcomed the shots of pain. He had been rubbing himself against the bed but did not stop licking the loan shark or working his fingers inside of her, even when his own orgasm broke.

“Oh, oh, Danny, stop! Please stop. It’s too much!” Belle cried weakly, and Danny finally let his fingers slip from her. He kissed her nether curls lovingly before taking Belle’s legs and swinging them onto the bed. He crawled over her and pulled her prone body to him, cuddling her as he knew she would want him to after a powerful orgasm.

After a long, lovely silence in which the two of them pressed together and felt the other’s heart beating, Belle stirred. “Was I any good?” she asked shyly.

“You were unfuckingbelievable,” Danny murmured. He felt sleepy, and now that they’d had their orgasms, he planned on putting their bed to good use. “You went all out with this one, Bells. Where’s you find the weird like man and a room full of people who look like us?”

Belle laughed. “I swear, Danny, that wasn’t me! But when the opportunity presented itself to fulfill a fantasy…I figured, carpe diem!”

Danny slapped her ass lovingly. “That’s my girl. We’re probably having some shared erotic dream.”

“We win all of the couple awards,” Belle laughed. “Wouldn’t it be weird if we fell asleep in our dream and woke up at home?” Danny mumbled his agreement. “Next it’s my turn to choose,” Belle giggled, snuggling closer to Danny. “I wonder how we’ll top this.”

He grinned. “With another fucking Gothic romance, I’ll bet.”

“No, I think we’ll try a Regency novel this time,” she said thoughtfully. “I absolutely love Pride and Prejudice.”

“I’ll making a fucking incredible Darcy,” Danny said, yawning.

Belle swatted at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to be Darcy. You’ll be Elizabeth. Or Bingly. I haven’t decided which yet.”

The couple drifted off to sleep nestled in each other’s arms. With a glimmer and a flash, their purpose fully realized, they disappeared from the Hotel Anielle back into their everyday lives.

* * *

_The Library: Nosty and the Woman Scorned_

“Please don’t take it personally,” said Belle French as she walked amongst the shelves, her fingers trailing over each book’s ornate spine. “I’m really not looking for a relationship right now.”

Nosty leaned against the mahogany table in front of the stacks and shrugged. “Not with the likes of me, that is.”

Belle’s head snapped towards him. “And what does that mean?”

Giving her a dark grin, Nosty gestured to himself: his manky dreadlocks, his threadbare leather jacket, his ratty kilt. He lived on the streets, got what little he had by taking from those weaker than himself, and looked every inch the part. “We don’t exactly come from the same worlds, hen.”

“Actually, we do. That’s why we paired off together.”

After the money lender and the loan shark left the dining room, the rest of the couples had found their so-called true loves and wandered off to do god knows what. Belle wondered if, come morning, she and Nosty would be the only ones left in the Hotel Anielle.

“How did we land the fucking library, by the way? That’s anti-Scottish sentiment, that is.”

Belle snorted. “From what I heard back there, you’re hardly the only Scotsman in the group.”

Nosty glared. “You mean the barber and the priest? Those eejits can hug my rod. Fucking twallies, the pair of them.”

“You think I won’t have sex with you because you think I’m rich and that I care that you’re not.”

“Aye, well, I sleep under the Waterloo Bridge, hen. Where do you bed down?” Nosty expected her to look away, to become flustered when he threw her privilege in her face, the way most minted birds did.

But Belle held his gaze. “Last night, I caught my fiancé in bed with another woman.”

“And he’s still your fiancé?” Nosty asked suspiciously.

Belle flushed. “Well, my former fiancé. As you can tell, the relationship ended under rather contentious terms.”

Nosty cocked his head. He knew how to read human emotion, often staking his life on his observations of others. Belle was holding back from him. “Did he tell you why?”

Now Belle’s eyes, luminous and blue, misted with tears and dropped to the floor. She mumbled something softly, allowing her hair to fall into her face to hide her obvious embarrassment.

“I didnae catch then, hen.”

“He told me I was frigid. In bed.” Belle turned and returned to the books. She found it easier to speak when she stepped away from Nosty. “In his defense, we’ve never been sexually compatible. I…I need something pretty specific to reach an orgasm.”

Belle could not imagine the effect her confession had upon Nosty and his cock. He had been half-hard for some time, ever since their barmy kidnapper described to them his plan for their hedonistic fuck fest, but now he wanted to know what Belle needed to climax with feral hunger. “And what’s that, hen?”

Belle hesitated before replying. “Direct clitoral stimulation.”

Nosty’s barking laughter sent her further into the shelves. “That doss cunt! Of course you need that. That’s how sex works for birds.” Nosty rarely sought to please the women who bartered for his drugs and his alcohol with their bodies, but he knew how the mechanics of sex worked, and he could throw down whenever he so chose.

Belle turned to face him again. “You know, maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way.”

“What, now?”

Grinning, Belle slunk towards him, walking with a newfound sensual confidence. Nosty could not begin to guess the game at which she played.

“I don’t know if you’d noticed, but I’m pretty angry with my fiancé  right now.”

“Makes sense. Like I said, he’s a doss cunt, and it’s best that you found out before you married him.”

“Well, as it happens, my impulsivity increases in direct proportion to my anger.” She shrugged. “It’s been a lifelong curse.”

Nosty grew impatient with her vague platitudes. “Get to the point, hen,” he snapped.

Belle paused, her cheeks growing rosier as she considered her offer, and took a deep breath.

“I think I should know you’re name first, though.”

“Nosty,” he told her.

Belle accepted his name without comment. “It’s lovely to meet you, Nosty. Right. Where was I?”

“This change of heart of yours,” Nosty replied.

Belle stepped closer to him, and Nosty might have been imagining things, because this bird could have any man she wanted, that dumb fuck fiancé aside, but he swore that her expression grew more sultry. “Nosty,” she murmured sweetly, biting her lower lip self-consciously, “I have changed my mind. Upon further reflection, I do want you to shag me.”

Nosty reared back. He must have misheard her. “Are you taking the piss?” he demanded disbelievingly.

Shaking her head, Belle recaptured the space he had put between them. “No, I swear I’m not! Listen, I have not had good sex in ages. And when I found my fiancé in bed with another woman, and then came here, I thought that was proof that I should ignore my feelings and remain celibate. The more I consider it, the more I realize I’m allowing his projections on to me to color what I really want.”

“So you’re propositioning the first man you see?” he asked, slightly offended on his behalf.

Belle bit her lip. Nosty’s cock, which had already made its opinion on Belle’s proposal known, throbbed as he considered what else those teeth could nip. “More like the first man in ages to make me wet, just by standing there.” When she saw Nosty’s shocked expression, she winked. “I told you I’m impulsive when I’m angry.”

“I – It’s not that I want to say no,” he told her. “But I wouldn’t have the first idea about how to shag a bird like you.”

“You seem like a man who knows what he’s about,” Belle replied.

She hadn’t the first clue what she’d decided to tangle with, he decided.

Did he think he wore his hair in dreads and dressed in a manky kilt and threadbare boots for kicks? Nosty knew how to fumble in the dark and how to find his own pleasure. He knew how to use and be used; for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being their fantastical location,  this thing between them felt different than when he fumbled with some faceless junkie in one of London’s dark corners.

Nosty realized with no small amount of alarm that he cared whether Belle enjoyed herself, that he wanted very much to please her, to show her what she’d been missing. The idea of investing himself in something which he would undoubtedly lose soon after its completion was enough to send him packing – but then Belle drew even closer to him and whispered in a voice meant for him alone, “We can figure it out together.”

The soft, sweet puff of her breath against his cheek, the clean, pure scent of her, those fucking blue eyes – Nosty had never wanted anything more in his life.

His lips met Belle’s roughly, and he grunted with pleasure when she responded to his possessiveness with like minded passion. She let him take the lead, allowed his tongue into her mouth to plunder her own, and the pair of them found a brilliant, blazing pace.

“What do you want, lass?” Nosty growled in Belle’s soft shell of an ear, his teeth bared, becoming more feral by the second.

“I want you, Nosty. Please, I want – I want all of you!” Belle sobbed as she rocked against him, grinding against his thick erection.

“Aye, I can see that,” he chuckled, hands going to his belt.

“The table,” Belle gasped, gesturing to an expensive looking oak piece.

Nosty shook his head as he undid his kilt and let it drop to the floor. Belle’s eyes darkened with lust, and with catlike grace, she dropped to the richly carpeted floor. Her legs fell open, and she held out her hand to him, inviting him to join her. Nosty snarled and dove for her. Belle caught him and cradled him close. Her hand found his cock, hot and eager for her, and he whined, it felt so fucking good to have her touching him.

“Oh, do you like that?” she purred, and the simple beauty of her caring about his pleasure nearly undid him on the spot. “I like it, too.”

Belle’s fingers found Nosty’s foreskin and stroked the sensitive skin. In his ear, she whispered how lovely he felt in her hand, how marvelous she found his cock, how much delight she experienced when she stroked his glans and he bucked into her palm. She traced the veins on the underside of his shaft, cooed over his girth, formed a tight circle around him and begged him to pump his cock into her. Belle brought her other hand to his aching bollocks and began rubbing the tender seam between them with light, toe-curling brushes.

“Too much,” Nosty panted. “Oh, fuck, Belle, it’s too much!”

“Undress me, then, and let’s do this properly,” Belle moaned, and Nosty’s hands flew to the hem of her dress. Their limbs knocked and tangled as they struggled to get Belle naked: he tore her skirt, and her fingers shook so much that it took her several anxious moments to undo the clasp of her bra. Nosty took a moment to appreciate the finest pair of breasts ever created before he set to suckling one of her rosy, puckered nipples.

For the third time that night, a posh bird’s hands tangled in his dreadlocks, but this time he welcomed the attention.

“Fuck, Nosty, I’m so wet for you,” Belle keened as he worried her nipple with gentle tugs of his lips.

His hand wandered down her soft, quivering belly, dipping under the expensive fabric of her panties. He grinned when he confirmed that yes, Belle was absolutely creaming for his Weegie arse.  

“Oh, Nosty, please!” she gasped, producing a tinfoil package as if by magic.

“Put it on me, bird,” Nosty grunted.

Together they watched as Belle unwrapped the condom and, with aching tenderness, slid it over the leaking tip of his cock and down his hard shaft. “So beautiful, Nosty,” Belle murmured.

Nosty pulled down her panties and guided the head of his cock to her entrance. Belle wriggled impatiently, and with little fanfare, he thrust into her.

“Oh!” Belle cried, clenching around him and drawing him further into her tight heat. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good, Nosty!”

Her praise set him ablaze, and Nosty pumped his hips eagerly, relishing the moans of pleasure he drew from her. Belle raked her fingernails down his back, leaving marks that would last only a little longer than their relationship.

Again, Belle’s hands travelled to Nosty’s bollocks, and when she gives the sack a gentle, wonderful squeeze, he howled. Reaching between them, he managed to press his fingers to the small bud between her thighs, and Belle screamed her release into the side of his neck. The combination of her fluttering muscles and her attention to his balls brought about his own sizzling climax.

Afterwards, they lay together. Belle stroked Nosty’s hair and soothed the marks she left upon his back. Her eyelids grew droopy, and he realized she was the sort of bird who drifted off to sleep after her orgasm.

Quickly, and with less kindness than Belle deserved, Nosty pulled out of her and began to collect his clothes.

“Do you think we really could be each others True Loves?” she asked sleepily.

Nosty’s stomach clenched. After this night of improbable, even fantastical, events, he should be more open to miracles. But the likelihood of Belle ever being able to love him. He wondered if he would see her again. Would she smile so sweetly for him if she saw him in Trafalgar Square with some of her posh mates and realized she’d shagged a homeless waster?

Probably. Belle seemed seemed genuine in her kindness.

“Get some sleep, hen,” Nosty grumbled.

Belle remained quiet after that until, with a glimmer and a flash, they too returned home. 

* * *

_Room One-Thirteen: Barney Thomson and the Scarlet Woman_

Barney Thomson could not calm down. He lead what most would call a boring, sedate life. The wildest thing he had ever done was to ride (for all of seven seconds) a mechanical bull in a bar in Kansas. That Barney had left the United Kingdom once in his life and had ended up in Kansas was a good a summary of the hapless man as could ever be written.

So when a small, hyperactive man appeared to him in the shower, and only days after he accidentally murdered one of his colleagues, something fragile within Barney’s equilibrium shattered. Unsurprisingly, since the man next move was to whisk him away to an opulent hotel in what he so casual called “another dimension,” Barney came a little bit undone. Running into the glass knocked him out cold for a few blessed minutes, but eventually he regained consciousness, and since that awful moment, he could not calm his frantic mind.

Lacey sat on the bed and stared at him, which only made Barney flail even more. As a rule of life, beautiful women did not pay him any mind. And Barney had never seen a woman as ravishingly gorgeous as Lacey before. Of all the women gathered in the dining room, he felt most drawn to her, and it knocked him sideways to think that such a creature might be his True Love.

He wished he had it in him to make a better impression. If only their paths had crossed in the barbershop or while he escorted his mother to and from her bingo nights. Although he had never put the theory to the test, Barney believed that no woman could resist the sheer animal magnetism he displayed when he took a pair of scissors in his hand; and didn’t birds love a doting son?

“I have an idea,” said Lacey cautiously, doubtlessly worried the wrong word would send Barney spiraling into another fit of squeaks and sobs, “that might solve both of our problems.”

Barney nodded at her to continue.

“It has been my experience,” Lacey continued, “that no man can resist a truly excellent blowjob. Seeing as I am an expert in giving exceptional head, I thought we could try that for a bit, see what works.”

All his life, Cemolina Thomson had cautioned Barney to beware of scarlet women. Now that he finally knew one, Barney had no idea what she was on about. Lacey was spectacular.

“Yes,” he said as casually as possible, “I would like to try that as well.”

He allowed Lacey to take the lead, and her confidence in her abilities made his cock swell in his pants. Her offer to fellate had not managed to banish his worries entirely and had not stabilized him, but it had put him on the road to recovery.

“Let’s see what we have to work with,” Lacey purred as her hands went for his belt. Only too late did Barney remember: his short (albeit pleasingly thick) cock was unlikely to impress her. He wilted at the possibility of her scorn, but when Lacey managed to remove his trousers and pants, she fixed him with a positively breathtaking grin. “Nice.”

Never in the history of such a simple word had it been used to convey such scandalous, reverence pleasure. Barney realized that Lacey, with her startling bravery in the face of faery shenanigans and her graceful acceptance of him as he was, could inspire in him an altogether different, more pleasing kind of trepidation. A lot of men might fall for the woman who offered to give them a no-strings-attached blowjob, but Barney felt certain that his feelings for Lacey, which deepened by the second, had something to do with True Love.

He intended to mention his revelation to her, but Lacey began to nuzzle his belly, lightly dusted with hair and with just enough chub to provide someone with a comfortable place to rest their head. She peppered his skin with gentle kisses, and Barney nearly leapt from his skin when he felt her tongue flicker against his skin.

“You like that, hmm?” she asked, smiling up at him.

“Gods, yes,” Barney gasped, past caring about how much he squeaked.

“I’m just getting started, Barney.”

Slowly, as if sensing his still-overactive mood, Lacey kissed and licked her way down his belly and to his thighs. He cock stood proudly to attention, so hard that his foreskin slid back, exposing the sensitive head. The mere tickle of her breath against his glans had Barney bucking his hips upwards, eager for her mouth upon that bit of fevered flesh. Lacey had become enamored with playing the long game, though, and paid glorious attention to the ticklish skin of his thighs, the riot of curls between his legs (so much softer than that of most men), his firm, quivering buttocks. By the time Lacey took his shaft in her hands and brought her pink, kittenish tongue to lap away the bead of precum on the tip of Barney’s cock, he knew, without a doubt, that he had fallen irrevocably in love with Lacey and would forever be her willing servant.

Lacey sucked the tender head of Barney’s penis into her mouth. When he convulsed against her, she slowed the mad swirling of her tongue and lapped at him with soft, swirling licks. Barney could not stop himself: the day had been too long, too strange, too wondrous. He began to cry softly, and Lacey, perhaps because she loved him as well, kneaded his thighs happily. An upside to having a stubby cock was that she could easily take him down her throat: Barney stifled a shriek when Lacey sucked him down with masterful ingenuity.

Oh, tits on toast.

She had taken into her mind to gently stroke his scrotum while she bobbed her head up and down. Did she know that Barney Thomson kept his soul in his exquisitely sensitive bollocks, that he never went to town on himself without first giving his balls his undivided attention?

Lacey squeezed one nut with just the right amount of pressure, and Barney could suppress his orgasm not a moment longer: he did not even have time to warn Lacey before his balls drew up and he came, came, came! He thought his climax would never end, and towards the end, he might have begun to sing an off-tune version of the country song that had been playing during his brief ride on the mechanical bull. (Later, he would assure Lacey that this was the highest possible compliment he could pay her fellatio talents.)

For her part, Lacey swallowed Barney’s cum greedily. He could not know that this wasn’t her standard operating procedure, but when he learned as much, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Barney knew some men balked at the notion of kissing a hen after they’d gone down on them, but when he drew Lacey into a passionate kiss, the taste of himself in her mouth made his heart flip excitedly.

Glimmer. Flash. An empty room.

* * *

_The Gazebo: Will Plunkett and the Fine Lady_

Belle’s father would skin alive the low brow ruffian who spirited his daughter away to a location so romantic as a well-constructed gazebo. But – and this did not cause Belle as much heartache as was expected of a dutiful child – papa was nowhere to be seen.

Part of Belle rejoiced at being miles, possibly dimensions, away from her actual life. The other half quivered and shook at the nearness of one William Plunkett, who must have been the most dashing man she’d ever met. He did not mind her shyness nor her quiet nature. They had spoken scant words to each other and had ended up at the gazebo, after the others departed, by silent agreement.

“I must make a confession,” Belle said softly, after they had each examined the gazebo’s intricate decorations twice over.

“I have been told that I am an excellent listener,” Will replied.

Belle swallowed. She had never been alone with a man to whom she was not related before. The newness of the experience made her already awkward tongue even heavier. But she needed to tell him what she knew of him: that he was not a stranger to her, as she must be to him.

“You see, this is not the first time we’ve met.”

Will gave her a cocky grin. “I don’t normally keep company with proper ladies. Trust me, love, I’d remember you.”

Belle shook her head. “The last time we met: I wasn’t a lady. I was a young girl.”

Will’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “Come again?”

“A man twisting in the gallows. Drawing his last breath. And then: gun smoke and a white stallion and a man with pistols strapped across his chest.”

They had both settled onto the bench that ran around the inside perimeter of the circular gazebo. But when Will heard her words and grasped their meaning, he leapt to his feet. “You were at Tyburn.”

Belle dipped her head in a dainty nod. “My father has a taste for such…past times. I do not. I was so afraid, that day, and I prayed over and over again for a magistrate to stop the execution. It made me sick to see the eager anticipation in the faces of the people in the stands.”

When he understood that she did not censure his liberation of the hanging man, Will returned to his seat. He could not stop the cocky grin that spread across his face. “I was an answer to your prayers, then.”

Belle had never been more serious in her life than when she told him, “You were.”

Will had no idea what to reply, so he kept quiet and continued to speak.

“My father has betrothed me to a man I cannot abide. Sometimes it is a burden, being a woman in a world where we cannot decide our own fates. The closer my wedding draws, the more I pray.”

“For another miracle?”

“No,” Belle told him. “For you.”

Will had found it difficult to breathe in such close proximity to a woman with such effervescent blue eyes. Now he thought he might suffocate under the knowledge that this woman existed but that he could never have her.

Belle began to weep softly. “I fear this marriage will be a noose around my neck. My betrothed is not a kind man. He dislikes my passion for learning and intends upon driving it from me, by whatever means necessary. He chooses violence where compassion would do, and I feel desperate when I consider what that might mean for me. You saved one condemned person. I prayed that you would come and rescue me on a white stallion, as well.”

“Then it would do us both good to return home, so I can saddle my horse.”

Belle smiled through her tears. “I had rather hoped to stay here forever. I could be the master of my destiny. I do not know where else I could find so appealing an offer.

Will gestured to their surroundings. “Without that dodgy bloke, I don’t think we have another choice. It’s not as dramatic as gun smoke and a man twisting in the sky –”

“I’ll take it!” Belle declared happily.

Will extended his arm to her. “Shall we, my lady?”

Belle curtsied before lacing her arm through the crook of his. “With pleasure, my lord.”

And the pair of them departed the gazebo and walked in the direction of the rose gardens, blissfully unaware of their observers.

* * *

“I think these two are my favorites,” murmured Titania to her husband.

“I definitely prefer the ones who role played, my love,” Oberon replied.

Titania smirked. “You do love a dominant woman, dearest.”

Oberon bowed to her. “I have the extreme fortune of being irrevocably enchanted by one.”

His lady queen preened at the compliment. “I suppose we will have to allow Puck back to court.”

“When we can find him, I suppose we will.”

Titania watched the lady and the highwayman as they disappeared into the gardens. “What fascinating creatures, these mortals. I do believe we will have to explore more of these couples.”

“I agree. But, my love, what of these two?”

With magic whirling about her, Titania gestured for her husband to follow her into the next world. “Leave them be.”

“Where are we off to now?” Oberon asked.

Titania grinned. “To find a priest, dearest. I do think we should take a page out of Puck’s book and have ourselves a little _meddle_.”


End file.
